


protection

by melodiousoblivion



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Fluff, Modern Royalty, bellarke as princess and bodyguard, i'm writing something hella sad so this is holding me over, its fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 16:52:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodiousoblivion/pseuds/melodiousoblivion
Summary: Bellamy is Clarke's bodyguard AU





	protection

Princess Clarke of Arkadia, daughter of King Jake and Queen Abigail, was a pain in his ass. Especially when she conspired with his sister, Octavia. Somehow, without his knowledge or approval, the two of them had become fast friends. It made sense in a way, both were young and extremely isolated. Octavia because she lived in the castle as a guard’s sister, and Clarke because she was the princess. They had also become adept at slipping their detail on Bellamy’s days off, leading him to his current situation.

 

He had received a 911 from Kane, letting him know that Clarke was missing, and Bellamy had been called in to find her. He grabbed Miller from the small apartment next to his in the back of the castle grounds and the two of them went into the kingdom to find the wayward girls.

 

They were a modern kingdom, and Bellamy knew most of the clubs Clarke liked to frequent. He ducked into TonDC, waving a ‘King’s Guard’ badge to the bouncer and looked around.

 

“Blake. 3 o’clock.” Miller nudged him and he turned, searching for the blonde hair of his charge. He and Miller sighed in sync and began to wade through the crowd until they reached O and Clarke. Both girls were drunk and probably high, disagreeable yet cuddly. Miller slung Octavia over his shoulder in a fireman carry and Bellamy held Clarke up by the waist in an attempt to maintain propriety.

 

“Bellllll…you found us!” Clarke slurred, smiling dopily at him.

 

“Uh huh. Get in the car, Princess.” He deposited her in the backseat, then buckled her seatbelt. He and Miller began the long drive to the castle, listening to Octavia and Clarke drunkenly sing ‘Happy Birthday’ in a round, though neither of them knew how to sing in a round.

 

When they get back to the castle its 2am and Bellamy is on duty in 2 hours. Miller helps him get Clarke and Octavia back to Clarke’s room, placing them both in the large bed swathed in blankets. Both girls are half asleep, and tell Bellamy and Miller how much they love them before passing out. Miller goes to the control room to start his shift and Bellamy lies down on the couch outside Clarke’s room, deciding it’s not worth it to get back to his bed.

 

He and Clarke have never had the easiest of relationships. They hated each other on principle at first, he because he thought she was stuck up, and she hated anyone who told her what to do. When he realized she’d rather be an artist than a diplomat and she realized he had no interest in controlling her, they became friends. Now, four years later, they were best friends. There was no one he’d rather spend time with than Clarke.

 

Though, it would be weird if they weren’t close at this point. You could only lay your life on the line for someone so many times before you traded life stories. Clarke was well liked, loved by a majority of her people and the world, but the fringe weirdos who didn’t think a bisexual woman who wears pants and parties should be the Queen someday. Close minded pricks but creative, Bellamy had found himself face to face with knives and guns more often than he’d like for Clarke’s sake.

 

He wakes up, lets Raven off her shift, and stands outside Clarke’s room, waiting for the stupid Princess to wake up. Around 7 he hears the stirrings of blankets, and the padding of feet to the door. Clarke pokes her head out, wrapped in a plush blanket and wearing a sweatshirt that Bellamy is 99% sure is his. Her hair is tangled around her face, and last nights makeup is smearing under her eyes. But god, she’s never looked better. Her long legs underneath his oversized sweatshirt? It’s pretty much the most beautiful thing Bellamy’s ever seen.

 

“Morning, Bell.” She rasps, tequila voice in full effect.  
  
“Fun night?” He smirks, eyes crinkling when she glares at him.

 

“I need coffee.” She brushed past him, blanket billowing out behind her like the robe she will one day wear at her coronation, “Come on, bodyguard. You need coffee too.” He sighed and got into step behind her, trying his hardest to not be distracted by her.

 

When they reached the kitchen they got into the typical morning routine. Clarke started the coffee and stared at the percolator as if it would make it work faster, Bellamy put some bread in the toaster for her to get actual food into her stomach. She puts the amount of sugar and cream he likes into his mug, he adds the almond butter and strawberries to her toast. Then they stand, leaning against the counter, eating in silence.

 

“Bell…thank you. For last night, and everything.” She looks at him, eyes soft underneath impossibly long eyelashes.

 

“Just doing my job, Princess.” She’s turned her body now, put down the toast and coffee. Her head is bowed, and she’s looking at her feet.

 

“How many times have I asked you to call me Clarke?” She teases.

 

“It’s improper for me to, Princess.” She’s looking at him again, and he feels himself drowning in her eyes.

 

“Screw propriety.” She whispers, and then kisses him.

 

Every logical part of his brain shuts down and all he can see, feel, know is her. Clarke, the brave princess. Clarke, the beautiful princess. Clarke, the girl he loves. Her hands are around his neck, lips soft against his and the it hits him. He’s kissing the girl he’s been in love with for years, and this is real. He grabs her by the waist and lifts her up, taking a few steps forward so she’s on the counter. Suddenly, she’s up higher than him and that gives him delightful, free access to her neck, her chest, all of her.

 

They’re standing there, making out like teenagers for god knows how long and she’s somehow managed to unbutton his shirt and her hands are running up and down his back. He is so lost in her, in the contours of her body, in the smell of her, in her touch, that it takes Miller barking out his name for him to come back to the world. They both turn sheepishly to see Octavia looking pissed while covering her eyes and Miller with one eyebrow raised.

 

“I woke up this morning to find both my brother and my friend gone. Meaning, if someone decided to kill Clarke in her bed, they’d kill me instead. So, I was rather annoyed. I grabbed Miller and we thought ‘hey, they’re probably getting food’. Imagine my disgust when we find the two of you EATING EACH OTHER on the table WHERE WE PREPARE OUR FOOD!”

 

“Sorry?” Clarke squeaked out, wincing a bit.

 

“Go elsewhere. Now.” Octavis gritted out while Miller tried to hold back a smile.

 

“Sorry, O! Love you!” Clarke jumped off the counter and ran out of the room, dragging Bellamy behind her.


End file.
